


Rest Day Relaxation

by Bowm8935



Series: What Happens In Kirkwall [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Modern AU, Smut, Templars, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 05:13:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7604941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bowm8935/pseuds/Bowm8935
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Knight-Captain Cullen is a member of the Templar Order, an elite military force in Kirkwall tasked with keeping the peace between the Chantry, the city council and the newly formed College of Magi. Because he constantly overworks himself, his boss forces him to take a day off and sends him to get a massage at the local hospital. Carver Hawke is his massage therapist, and meeting him seems to start a snowball effect of them running into each other time and time again, leading their relationship to new and exciting places.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rest Day Relaxation

**Author's Note:**

> If there's enough interest, I can follow this up to further the boys' relationship. 
> 
> As always, I welcome comments, kudos and suggestions. Cross-posted on my tumblr, as usual. Thank you!

“Hi, yes. I am here for a massage?”

Cullen tried not to fidget as he watched the receptionist click away at her computer’s keyboard. She had straight, dark brown hair that flowed down across her shoulders, framing a heart-shaped face and deep blue eyes. Laugh lines were present around her mouth and eyes, showing she had lived a life full of joy. She pushed her thin glasses up her nose as she squinted at the screen. “Name?”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, attempting to keep his nerves under control. “Cullen. Ah, Rutherford.”

“Thank you, Serrah Rutherford. How are you paying today?”

He pulled out the gift certificate his boss had given him and handed it gingerly to her. _You work too much_ , Meredith had told him. _Take a break while you can._ The city was on the precipice of change, the city council and the Chantry working with Kirkwall’s newly-formed College of Magi to rid the streets of blood mages as well as everyday rubble. The elite military force of the Chantry, the Templars, had thus been working overtime to not only keep the tenuous peace between the College and Chantry, but also to make sure no major crime lords succeeded in the multiple assassination attempts already made on several high-player’s lives. As Knight-Captain of the Templar Order, Cullen had his hands full and often worked up to 18 hours a day, insisting that he needed to partake personally in as many of the missions as he could fit in around his mountains of paperwork. Today was the first day he had taken off of work in nearly 6 months, forced upon him by the Knight Commander. _You’re of no use to me burned out._

So, here he was. The receptionist handed him a clipboard with a questionnaire to fill out, asking him to take a seat and to return the form when he had completed it. He inclined his head in a polite manner, thanking her as he turned around, searching for an open seat. He saw one next to the tempered glass wall that blocked the waiting room off from the hallway leading to the physical therapy and massage therapy hallway, so he slipped over quietly and sat down. Considering the paper in front of him, he checked “no” on anything that indicated a type of illness or issue- he was healthy and fit, thankfully. He was also resigned to checking the same box when it inquired whether or not he had had a professional massage before- this was his first time, and most likely his last. The idea of a stranger placing their hands on him in such an _intimate_ setting felt wrong to him, regardless of it being professional. He was relieved that Meredith had the foresight to send him to a therapist based out of a hospital as opposed to a spa or a privately owned office; he felt _slightly_ more comfortable here, with the sterile walls and medical atmosphere surrounding him. Signing his name with a flourish, he added the date before approaching the desk again, handing off the sheet and padding back to his seat.

He tried to ignore the anxiety coiling within him, causing his foot to tap upon the ground. Bowing his head and closing his eyes, he started to recite the Chant of Light in his head, hoping to center himself before his name was called. _Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter._ He took a deep breath, trying to diffuse the headache he felt building behind his eyes from his tenseness. _Blessed are the peacekeepers, the Champions of the just._

“Cullen?” His name jolted him out of his head, and he opened his eyes, scanning the hallway to see who had called for him. His eyes landed on a… man? He blinked a few times, hoping to clear his vision, but to no avail. That was indeed a _man_ calling for him, in a plain white shirt and black athletic shorts. Bright blue eyes searched the waiting area, looking for him, no doubt, and an exaggerated sigh left the man’s lips as he looked down at the folder in front of him again. “I’m ready for Cullen Rutherford,” he called again, sounding both bored and irritated in a distinctly Ferelden accent.

Cullen scrambled to his feet, ashamed that it had taken him so long to respond. Steeling his spine, he strolled over to the man, slapping on his Knight-Captain mask. He noted with some interest that he was actually a few inches shorter than the man, who was eyeing him slightly warily. Stopping right before him, he gave a small bow. “I am he,” he remarked, straightening again and placing his hands behind his back. The other man grunted slightly and motioned for him to follow, ungracefully shoving a stray lock of black hair out of his eyes. Cullen followed cautiously, not at all impressed with him so far.

They walked down the hallway, passing the room that was obviously meant for the physical therapy patients, Cullen glancing at some of the contraptions nervously, unsure of what they were for. Licenses lined the walls of the hallway, each proclaiming their owners to be legal to operate in Kirkwall. He saw a few closed doors with nameplates that led to offices before they finally approached their destination. The last room in the hallway, the door was open and as Cullen peered in, he could see the massage table was made to resemble a bed, with a U-shaped piece at the top he assumed was for his head. The man stepped out of the way, allowing Cullen entry first, before following and closing the door behind him.

“Never expected to get the Knight-Captain in here,” the man said, brushing the same errant lock of hair away again. “Name’s Carver. I’ll be your massage therapist. Obviously.” Carver read through the paper in front of him, the questionnaire Cullen had filled out only minutes earlier. “So nothing special, yeah? No place that hurts more or needs extra attention?” He swung his gaze up to meet Cullen’s, blue eyes piercing. Cullen shook his head; no, he was only here at the behest of his superior. That earned him another grunt, Carver looking at the paper again. “This is your first time?” he asked, his tone giving away his surprise.

Despite himself, Cullen felt a blush creep over his features. How the man had managed to make it sound so, well, _inappropriate_ was ridiculous. “That is correct,” he answered, keeping his voice steady.

Carver peered at him again, confusion coloring his features, most likely due to Cullen’s ridiculous blush. Cullen stood even straighter under the scrutiny, clueless how else to respond to the man’s curious eyes. Carver let out a small huff of laughter. “No need to be so stiff and formal here. You’re supposed to relax, not tense up more.” He gestured toward the table. “You’re gonna want to get down to your smalls, then crawl under the blankets. Place your head in the cradle up at the top. I’ll give you a few moments to get ready.” With that, he turned on his heel and stepped out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Cullen stared at the door in both disbelief and horror; for some reason, it came as a _surprise_ to him that he needed to undress. It did seem logical, as he thought it through, yet that realization did little to ease his trepidation. Glancing around the room, he searched for a place meant for his clothes. There was the chair behind him by the entrance, with a stand in the corner next to it that held a small, lit lamp. Above his head was a shelf with bottles of what he assumed were oil, a list of scents next to them. The wall shared with the door was indented a few feet past where the frame began, a long, thin table placed inside holding a CD player, three towels stacked in a pyramid formation, and a fish bowl with some papers scattered next to it. In the back stood a built-in cupboard that traveled from the floor to the ceiling, closed but no doubt full of linens. A large bay window was beside the cupboard, the counter space in front of it holding a towel warmer and- _Maker’s breath_ \- a crockpot? He did not even want to _theorize_ what that was used for. The remaining wall held a fan, a corkboard filled with cartoons, and a picture of the ocean split on three canvases. In the middle of the room was the massage table with a wheeled stool at its head.

Deciding there was no place meant specifically to hold his garments, he peeled off his tunic and breeches, folding them carefully and setting them on the chair. He padded over to the table, pulling back the sheets and gingerly sliding under them. He felt distinctly uncomfortable at his state of undress, but there was naught to be done. Pulling the covers up to his shoulders, he lowered his head into the cradle, pleased to find it more comfortable than it looked.

It seemed he had barely settled in when a knock sounded on the door, followed by Carver bursting in without waiting for his assurance that he was ready. “Alright, I’m going to stick this pillow under your ankles,” the rough voice said, giving little warning before he felt a hand pushing up his feet, the aforementioned cushion sliding under. The weight upon him lessened as the blanket was pulled back and layered over his butt, followed by the sheet on the side of his right leg. Carver tucked it in between Cullen’s thighs to keep it in place, not reacting when Cullen flinched slightly from the unexpected touch. “Okay, I’m going to start out with a sort of medium pressure. You need to tell me if you want me to push harder or lighter, yeah? _Maker, relax.”_ The last bit was said in an exasperated tone after Carver’s hands fell on Cullen’s hamstrings to find him tense with nerves. “I’m not gonna bite or do anything to make you uncomfortable.” The click of a lid could be heard, then Carver’s hands rubbed oil up and down his legs. Cullen felt the lines he drew on his hamstrings first, followed by a few different types of rubbing, and felt some of the tension ease away.

“You may press more firmly, if you’d like,” he said quietly, thinking he’d enjoy it more with more pressure.

“Eh, what’s that? You want me to go harder? Your wish is my command.” The pressure increased as Carver repeated the motions on Cullen’s calf. Cullen sighed softly, his body relaxing of its own volition under the ministrations of the other man. He lost track of time, simply appreciating the feel of the massage as Carver worked up his body, spending more time on his back. Cullen thought he heard a few curses muttered under the man’s breath as he worked on Cullen’s shoulders, but he didn’t care enough to really consider it.

All too soon, the first part was over, and Carver was sliding the pillow out from under his ankles. “Okay, time for you to flip over and scoot down so your head is on the table.”

Cullen felt the heat rise to his face at the request. He had been enjoying the massage, relaxing quite a bit everywhere, save one spot- his nethers. His member had hardened seemingly of its own desire, something he had pushed to the back of his mind assuming he would remain on his stomach until they were done. “I-I, um. I’m not sure that-that’s wise,” he stuttered out, face flaming red.

“Oh, for Maker’s sake,” Carver groaned. “If you’re embarrassed about what I think you are, don’t be. It’s a perfectly _normal_ response and it’s nothing I don’t already see every day. Just _roll over._ ”

Cullen obliged, sliding down on the table before slowly turning to lie on his back, eyes squinting in the sudden bright light. His hands reached down to try to make his erection less conspicuous. Carver rolled his eyes at the movement, though he had an amused look on his face, much to Cullen’s despair. Carver placed a rolled up warm towel under his neck next, followed by something over his eyes- making the blinding light dim, much to his relief. Then Carver slid the pillow under his knees, and started the massage anew.

Before he knew it, the hour was up. Carver slipped out of the room, leaving Cullen to his own devices. He sat up slowly, legs dangling over the side of the table, amazed by how much he had actually _enjoyed_ the massage. Perhaps he had judged the act too harshly too soon- an assumption that may have been colored by all the “happy endings” he knew to happen on television (and now that he had seen Carver, dare he think he wouldn’t have minded one?). The only happy ending here was that his muscles felt like new, and he felt oddly well-rested. Shaking his head in bafflement, he stood and reached for his clothes, sliding the tunic over his head and pulling his trousers back up.

He opened the door to find Carver leaning against the wall outside, a cup of water in his hand that he abruptly thrust toward Cullen. “Make sure to drink a lot of water today, or you’ll feel bloody awful tomorrow. Have a fantastic day, Knight-Captain.” Cullen’s lips twisted up slightly as Carver gave him a Ferelden salute before spinning around and heading toward an office, disappearing inside. He brought the cup to his mouth, savoring the cool and refreshing liquid as it hit his tongue.

Maybe he’d have to do this again.

 

~*~

**6 weeks later**

Cullen groaned audibly as his little car sputtered feebly at him. He pulled off to the side of the freeway as his engine fell silent, reaching into his pocket to dial the Knight Commander’s number. It was just his luck that this would happen on his way to work. Placing the phone up to his ear, he turned the key to the off position, sitting back in his seat and considering the car while the phone rang. A click alerted him to the other end being picked up.

“Thank you for calling Kirkwall’s Templar Order. You’ve reached the office of Knight Commander Meredith; how may I help you today?” a sweet voice trilled in his ear, causing him to smile.

“Ah, yes, good morning, Macha. This is Knight-Captain Cullen. Would you kindly let the Knight Commander know I will be delayed this morning? My car has, unfortunately, broken down and I am afraid I will be forced to call a towing service.” At her affirmation, he thanked her and hung up, tossing the device onto the seat next to him. Groaning again, he let his head fall onto the top of the steering wheel, frustrated. He hit the side of his seat with a fist a few times before opening his door and getting out of the vehicle. Popping the hood, he strode to the front of the car and propped it open, staring down at the jumbled mess in front of him helplessly. He had never bothered to learn much about cars, always content with letting a mechanic do the work for him. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed, and turned to head back to the door to grab his phone.

The sound of tires on gravel alerted him to someone pulling over on the shoulder to join him, and he looked up to see an old, beat up, blue pickup parking behind his car. Curious, he watched as the door popped open and out stepped a man with intense blue eyes, pushing a strand of black hair back irritably. Cullen froze as he recognized Carver strolling toward him.

“Hey, Knight-Captain. Wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon,” and Cullen blushed furiously when Carver _winked_ at him, a wicked smile playing across his lips. “What seems to be the problem?”

“I, uh, well.” Cullen cleared his throat, pushing the errant thoughts invading his mind about the man in front of him to the side. “I was headed to work when it started sputtering suddenly, so I pulled over. It would seem it was just in time, for as once my tires reached the gravel, the engine shut off.” He watched as Carver came to stand next to him, examining the engine under the hood. “Unfortunately, I find my knowledge of the mechanical workings of vehicles is rather lacking.”

Carver glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, giving him an unreadable look, before turning his attention back to the car. “Well, it’s your lucky day then; I’m pretty good with _the mechanical workings of vehicles.”_

Cullen frowned, unsure if the man was having a laugh at his expense or not. He watched as Carver poked around under the hood a bit, muscles rippling down his arms. He was wearing a cut-off faded brown shirt with dusty blue jeans, neither doing much to conceal the mass of his body. Cullen found himself staring in entrancement as his body moved, only finally tearing his eyes away as Carver moved to walk over to the driver’s seat, sliding in and trying to start the car. Cullen heard the engine turn over and whine a bit, though he had no idea what that meant. After a few more minutes of the same thing, Carver stood back up and approached him.

“Your battery lost its charge. I don’t have the right things to check to see why, but I can give you a jump. Probably should send it to a mechanic to get it checked out, though.” Carver ambled back to his truck, starting it before slowly pulling around Cullen and his car, doing a quick turn so the front of the two vehicles were facing each other. Leaving the truck running, he jumped out of the seat with a pair of jumper cables, popping his hood before connecting the two batteries. “Like I said, this is a temporary fix. Definitely get it looked at so you don’t end up at the bloody side of the road again,” he said, a wry smile on his face.

Cullen nodded. He decided to drive it straight to the shop, then catch a taxi to work. He would most likely look into renting a car for the time it took to get his repaired, to decrease the annoyance of having to depend on other drivers. He dared a sideways glance at Carver, wondering what it was about the man that had his heart thumping against his chest. It was an unusual feeling; one he was not accustomed to having. What did it mean?

“So. You’re Ferelden too, yeah?” Cullen started at the question, turning his gaze to Carver. Carver gave a small laugh at the alarmed look on Cullen’s face. “You didn’t think we’d stand here in silence this whole time, did you? No sodding way, that’s too bloody awkward. Anyway, your accent gave you away.” He turned away, blue eyes focusing on something in the distance. “Came here with my family to get away from the Blight. Fought at Ostagar, the shit show that it was. Not sure Kirkwall is the best place for us, but mother insists. What about you?”

Cullen hesitated; did he really want to answer that question? His pause was long enough that Carver simply shrugged. “Never mind, then. Don’t need to tell me. Keep your secrets.”

“No, I apologize. I am unused to being asked that question. I was at Kinloch Hold; I transferred here after the College fell.”

Carver bobbed his head at the answer. “Heard about that. Bloody awful, that was. Sorry you had to deal with that shit,” he said, still looking away. Cullen found himself relieved that the man was accepting about it, so unlike the peppering of questions he used to get when he first came to Kirkwall. He found himself staring again as Carver stretched, pale skin shining in the sunlight. Carver looked over and caught him, giving him a lopsided smile, causing Cullen to turn bright red again.

“Check to see if it’ll start,” Carver commanded, pointing to the steering wheel. Cullen hastened to comply, reaching through the window of the car to try the key. To his surprise- and relief- it started without a problem. With a satisfied grunt, Carver leaned over and plucked off the cables, first from Cullen’s car, then his own truck. Placing them back in the cab of the truck, he shut the hood before padding back over to Cullen, who had just shut his own.

“So, Knight-Captain,” Carver started, a mischievous look in his eyes.

“Cullen.” Carver raised an eyebrow at the interruption. Cullen gave him a small smile. “Please, call me Cullen.”

“Okay,” Carver said slowly, advancing on Cullen until he was standing right in front of him. “Cullen.”

Cullen felt his breath hitch at the husky tone of his voice, staring at the taller man, taking in the heated look on his face. _Maker’s breath._ What… what did this mean?

“I was wondering if you’d-“ Carver was interrupted by the chirping of Cullen’s phone, Cullen flying to get it. Seeing it was Meredith on the line, he apologized to Carver, explaining it was his boss. Carver nodded as Cullen quickly answered, relieved to hear that she was not mad; simply concerned. He explained the situation, distracted with the conversation and didn’t notice Carver watching him with a disappointed look on his face as he strode toward the truck. Only when the telltale sound of gravel hitting tires filled the air did Cullen turn around to see Carver was leaving. He quickly raised a hand in farewell, a sentiment Carver echoed with another salute. Soon, he was left alone on the side of the road, crawling into his car as he continued speaking with the Knight Commander. As he drove back onto the freeway, ending the call as soon as he could, he was surprised to feel the displeasure coursing through his veins at Carver having left.

 

~*~

 

**_3 months later_ **

Cullen gazed at himself in the mirror, straightening his tie. He had his blonde hair combed and gelled into waves as opposed to his thick, natural ringlets in an attempt to look older and more refined. He was sporting a smart light grey suit with a pastel blue button-up shirt underneath, a checkered dark blue tie completing the outfit. As he buttoned up the jacket, he contemplated how he was wrangled into this dinner.

The city council was comprised of the major noble houses of Kirkwall, and though they were meant to work together, they often did so with a dagger held behind their back, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. One of the old houses had recently regained their position at the table, after an unsettling amount of money passed between hands, causing the Viscount to finally cave and reinstate the noble status of the family. As the major military force in Kirkwall and tasked with keeping the peace between the three major powers of the city, the Templars were often given standing invitations to banquets and balls held by the nobles, something the Knight-Commander usually partook in to maintain the presence of the Order.

Tonight, however, the duty had been passed to him. Sighing heavily, he stepped out of the front door of his small apartment, heading to the black limo that was idling outside, waiting for him. Sliding into the seat, he leaned his head back, closing his eyes and working to mentally ready himself for the type of event he usually did his best to avoid.

Little was known about the Amell family, aside from the son of the once great and powerful family having led it into disgrace by gambling away the fortune left to him, and the daughter having disappeared to Ferelden in a rather scandalous affair to marry a man her parents disapproved of. The former lived in Lowtown in shame, keeping to himself and barely able to rub two coppers together. The latter had recently returned and had managed to reclaim her title, not a small part in due to her eldest son. There were whispers about how he, a simple Ferelden refugee, managed to come up with such a large sum of money- stories, of course, linking him to many unsavory acts. Cullen didn’t know the truth nor did he feel any desire to find it out. He was simply being sent to a small, private dinner with the former Amell (now Amell-Hawke) family, to play the part of the handsome Knight-Captain. Rumor had it that Lady Amell was in the market to find her daughter a suitor, and Meredith had made it no secret that was why he was attending. He sincerely hoped she was not intending to marry him off to secure political ties; that was not why he had joined the Order. Regardless, he would be present and see how the evening went.

The limo came to a stop, and Cullen thanked the driver, opening the door and rising out of the car. The Amell-Hawke mansion was a sight to be seen; once dilapidated and housing slavers, it had been restored to its former glory. Three stories high, it was made in the same Tevinter-style architecture present in all of the old manors. Steps led into the front garden, a fountain depicting three elves in various seductive poses in the middle of the courtyard. Flowers bloomed along the meticulously formed stone pathway he walked upon, well-taken care of and most likely a source of great pride. As he approached the large, wooden door, he noted the large pillars holding up an impressively decorated overhang, no doubt to keep those calling at least semi-dry during rainy weather. He knocked hesitantly on the door, and it opened before he managed to rap his knuckles against it a third time. Two dwarves stood before him in regal dress, the elder one bowing low in respect while the younger one looked at him curiously.

“We thank you for joining us this eve, messere. Please, enter. I am Bodahn, butler to the wonderful House Amell-Hawke.” The dwarf spoke in a cultured voice, ushering him through the large foyer into the dining room. “We were, of course, expecting the Knight-Commander but are just as honored to have the Knight-Captain’s presence instead.”

Cullen nodded politely, walking stiffly to where he was directed. Entering the dining room, he was hard-pressed to keep his face neutral as he took in the long, beautiful mahogany table bathed in an almost ethereal glow from the vintage chandeliers hanging overhead. The walls were lined with amazing canvases, each depicting stunning scenery from all over Thedas.

At the head of the table sat a middle-aged woman, her silver-streaked black hair piled on top of her head. She stood as he entered and gave a small curtsy, her dress flaring out at her hips with the action, the skirt brushing over the floor gracefully. He gave a small bow back, simply wishing to get the evening over with.

“Good evening, Knight-Captain! We are absolutely _delighted_ to have you dine with us! I am Leandra Amell, head of the house. Please, let me introduce you to my family.” She turned her gaze to the man sitting to her right side. He had black hair as well as a neatly trimmed beard that followed the curve of his jaw to join at both his chin and below his nose. His brown eyes sparkled in the light as he looked at Cullen, a smile already on his face. “This is my eldest, Garrett. It is because of him that we are able to have you here with us tonight. We owe him everything.”

Garrett let out a rich laugh. “Please, mother. No need to talk me up so; Varric already does that well enough himself.” He winked at Cullen. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Ser.” He stood and offered his hand, which Cullen took, offering a firm handshake.

“The pleasure is mine,” Cullen replied politely, releasing his hand and allowing Garret to sit back down. Leandra’s eyes moved to the young woman sitting at her left.

“This is my lovely daughter, Bethany.” Bethany flashed him a smile, and he had to admit that she was very beautiful. Her hair was a dark brown in contrast to the black of her mother and brother, pulled back save for a few curled strands framing her oval face. Her eyes were a bright blue, the color and shape familiar to him, though he couldn’t place why.

He gave her a small bow. “It is wonderful to meet such a lovely young woman,” he offered, seeing the pleased smile form on Lady Amell’s face. Bethany giggled, pink tinging her cheeks as she returned his sentiments.

Cullen noticed there were two more chairs at the table, yet he was the only one still standing. Catching his gaze, Lady Amell sighed. “I see you notice we are missing someone. My other son is late, as usual; I have no doubt he will saunter in whenever he feels like it. I hope you can forgive me for his rudeness. He is not fond of our lifestyle. Please, have a seat; the meal will be served shortly.”

He pulled out the seat next to Garret when she motioned to it, lowering himself in slowly. Soon, a small group of elven servants filtered through a door he assumed led to the kitchen, each carrying a tray of food he found to look enticing. As the table was filled with different sorts of mouth-watering varieties, the family started to chatter. He was content to just listen to them speak with each other, answering whenever a question was asked of him. Surprisingly, he found he was rather enjoying the evening, the family not acting quite like other nobles. He caught Bethany watching him throughout the meal, fluttering her eyelashes at him whenever he looked. He blushed deeper every time, unused to such attention from, well, _anyone._

He was nearly done with the food on his plate when a loud voice boomed from the entryway. “I don’t sodding _care_ if they’ve started already, I’m hungry. Look, Bodahn, I got all dressed up so mother can’t complain. Let me through.” An audible groan caused him to look over at Lady Amell, her hand covering her eyes in embarrassment.

“And here comes my youngest, always intent on embarrassing me,” she said in a disapproving voice as the sound of the door opening filled the room. “Knight-Captain, this is my son, Carver.”

Cullen turned to greet the man and froze once his eyes landed on him. It was _Carver_. Carver, the massage therapist, who had stopped to help him on the side of the road in a beat up old pickup truck.

Cullen noted Carver seemed to react the same, his blue eyes widening in shock. He was wearing a black suit, jacket hanging open to reveal a plain white shirt underneath. Cullen’s breath hitched in his throat as he took in just how handsome Carver looked in dress clothes; the sleeves of the coat did little to hide the muscles Cullen knew to be underneath, the pants somehow accenting the curve of his ass. The same lock of black hair was again hanging in his eyes, his hand brushing it back slowly as he worked his mouth, nothing coming out.

A snort of laughter from next to him jerked Cullen out of his surprise, and he quickly inclined his head in greeting to cover his previous reaction. “Speechless? That’s a first,” Garrett said in a tone full of teasing, and Cullen noted with interest the way Carver’s face hardened at the words.

“Well, I was expecting the bloody Knight-Commander, not _him_ ,” Carver waved a hand at Cullen, yanking out his chair and plopping into it. “Sor- _ry_ if I was a bit surprised to see the Knight-Captain instead.” He reached over and grabbed a piece of garlic bread that was near him, biting noisily into it.

“Carver! Really!” Lady Amell said, her voice full of disgust and displeasure. “Is that how we treat our guests?” She looked furious, rising from the table as though to slap him.

“It’s quite alright, I assure you,” Cullen said softly, all three sets of eyes converging on him. “We’ve met before; I wasn’t expecting to see him, either.” He finished his plate, nodding to the female elf who cleared it from in front of him.

She sat back down slowly, still fuming. “Well, as long as you’re not offended, I suppose. Still, I apologize for my son’s lack of décor,” she said, shooting Carver a seething glance. He shrugged in return, obviously non-repentant for his behavior. “Orana! Let’s clear the table for dessert, shall we? No, young man, you arrived late,” she spoke harshly when a whine was elicited from Carver about the food disappearing. “It’s not my fault if you go hungry tonight.”

Cullen tried to stifle the chuckle he felt rising in his throat at the petulant look on Carver’s face. He failed, earning him a glare from across the table. He smiled apologetically before taking a sip of the rich red wine in front of him. He saw Carver’s eyes fall to his lips when he licked a few drops from his upper lip, surprised to see a look of longing in the blue orbs. A small cough to his left caught his attention, and he glanced to see Bethany staring at the two, a small frown on her face. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to tamp down a blush when a plate was set in front of him containing what looked to be cheesecake drizzled in caramel sauce.

He lifted his fork to cut off a piece of the delicious dessert, looking up to see Carver watching him intently. Carver slowly brought a piece of the cake to his lips, sucking it into his mouth with a wicked look on his face, before closing his eyes and letting out a small moan that shot straight through Cullen. Maker, how did he manage to make the act of eating look so _sinful_?

Cullen bit his bottom lip at the sight, aware of the growing tightness in his trousers. It came as a surprise to him that he was being affected by something so simple, but even more surprising was that it was from this _man_. He’d always cut himself off from the romantic and base desires of his body, avoiding women he found striking. He had never considered the possibility that he’d be turned on by a member of the same sex before.

It was wrong, wasn’t it? To allow the primal desires of his body to rise to the surface when he pledged himself to the service of the Maker. He needed his focus sharp, no distractions so that he could be the best he could be for the Maker and his bride.

He pulled his gaze away from Carver, staring at his plate as he quickly finished the dessert. Once he was done, he avoided looking at the man across from him until the table was finished, thankful when Lady Amell stood, offering him to join her in the library for a glass of wine. He politely refused, stating he had an early meeting in the morning. Taking his excuse in stride, she curtsied again before gesturing Bodahn to show him back out the door. He hurried after the dwarf, hoping to slip out and away before any more unexpected wants made themselves known.

He had just slipped out into the garden when he felt a hand grasp his shoulder and he halted, a distinct deer-in-headlights look on his face as Carver came around to face him. “And just where do you think you’re running off to, _Cullen?_ ” Carver asked, locking his gaze with Cullen’s. “I think we have more _catching up_ to do.”

Cullen swallowed at the look of pure _lust_ written across Carver’s face. “I-I have a, ah, meeting, in the m-morning,” he stammered out, trying his best to ignore the heat coiling through his body at how close Carver had stepped to him. Carver threw back his head and laughed loudly at Cullen’s explanation.

“Yeah, I heard you say that inside. I don’t think that’s why you’re running, though.” He moved even closer, only a few inches separating the two now. “I think there’s another reason, and I have an idea what it is.”

Cullen unconsciously licked his suddenly dry lips, heart hammering harder as he heard Carver suck in a sharp breath at the action. Before he had a chance to reply, Carver’s mouth was on his, hot and wanting. Cullen stiffened at the initial contact, surprise giving way to longing as Carver pressed closer, hands falling to grip Cullen’s waist to bring them flush against each other, and he relaxed against the hard planes of Carver’s body. A small moan escaped from Cullen as he felt the extent of Carver’s desire pressing up against him, hips bucking of their own volition against his hardened length, eliciting a gasp from both of them. Carver leaned in further, teeth tugging at Cullen’s lower lip, pleading entrance into the cavern of his mouth. Cullen parted his lips, and Carver dove in immediately, plundering the wet heat. The air around them sizzled, electricity practically popping with the chemistry between them.

Heat was pooling in Cullen’s belly, a deep yearning rising throughout his body. He tangled his hands in Carver’s unruly hair, pleased to find it as soft as it looked. Carver made a content sound in his throat, breaking away to press hot, open mouthed kisses down his neck, tugging loose the tie to bite at Cullen’s pulse point. Cullen shuddered as the sensation tore through his body, groaning and grinding his hips against Carver. Carver’s grip on his hips became hard enough to bruise, urging the action by pressing them even tighter together, causing another moan to fall from Cullen’s lips. A deep, low laugh rumbled in Carver’s chest as he leaned over, whispering in Cullen’s ear.

“Yeah, I thought so. I think it’s time the pristine Knight-Captain gets his hands a little dirty,” he said, voice husky and thick. One hand snaked down between the two, palming Cullen’s erection, eliciting a growl from Cullen as he thrust wantonly into Carver’s hand. “You like that, yeah?” Carver snarled into his ear, breath hot on Cullen’s neck, sending shivers wracking through his body. Another nibble at the base of his neck followed by a squeeze of his manhood, Cullen arching into Carver’s palm. “Yeah, I think you do.”

Cullen grabbed Carver’s face and pulled it back to his for another scorching kiss, his hesitancy utterly dissipated. It was a kiss full of desperation, needy and rough, teeth and lips smashing against each other as Cullen completely let go of his inhibitions, forgetting that he was the Knight-Captain, that he should show some restraint and _decorum_ in public. He breathed in Carver’s smell, a mixture of massage and motor oil tinged slightly with something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, the scent driving him to brink of insanity with want. His cock throbbed, painfully hard, and he chased the pleasurable feeling from grinding their groins together.

Carver broke off the kiss suddenly, moving so fast Cullen’s mind reeled when he found himself whipped around, hands splayed on the fountain edge as he stared at the naked breasts of a stone elf. Carver was panting behind him, hands once again gripping his hips, pulling them back as he thrust against Cullen’s ass. Cullen found himself reciprocating the action, pushing back with his own to meet Carver each time, a low whine peeling from his throat. Shivers ran down his spine as Carver reached a hand around the front of him, unbuttoning the front of his pants and pulling the zipper down before reaching inside. Deft fingers slipped underneath the waistband of his smalls and he nearly lost it when a hand curled around his erection. He bucked forward as the hand slowly pulled up, flicking the head of his shaft before twisting and sliding back down.

Carver leaned forward, breath fanning across Cullen’s neck. “Mm, that feels good, yeah?” Cullen groaned as the pumping increased, thrusts following suit. Carver bit at his neck, sucking and licking the sore spot. “You like this? You like me touching you?” Cullen drew his lip between his teeth, nodding, head leaning back on Carver’s shoulder, unable to keep his eyes open any longer. The sensations were too much, he felt himself approaching the brink. “You know what I want?” Carver’s voice was low and rough, and he followed up the question with another bite. “I want to be down on my knees in front of you, your cock in my mouth, sucking and licking and watching you come undone.” Cullen’s breath caught at the words, the image playing before his eyes; it was almost too much. “I want to fuck you, and for you to fuck me. I want to make you scream my name so loud all of Kirkwall will know their Knight-Captain is being fucked by Carver bloody Hawke.” Carver’s free hand moved from Cullen’s hip to his hair, tangling in the curls that were beginning to free themselves and yanking his neck back further, allowing him the ability to lean down and bite his collarbone, hard. “Come for me, _Knight-Captain Cullen_.”

The last bit did it. Cullen gasped loudly as stars exploded in his vision, his brain stuttering in his ecstasy. He felt Carver continue to pump his cock, milking the pleasure from his orgasm, prolonging it. He leaned on his hands, letting his head fall forward as Carver released him, turning just enough to see him smile wickedly and lick Cullen’s seed off of his fingers. Cullen shuddered at the sight, watching him through half-lidded eyes. When he finally regained his senses, he reached down and tucked himself back into his smalls, buttoning his pants and adjusting himself. Turning around, he saw Carver grinning at him, a look of satisfaction evident on his face. A blush overtook his features as he realized what he had just allowed to happen, in public, of all places. His eyes fell to the ground, embarrassed and ashamed.

“Hey, now, none of that,” Carver said, a hand cupping Cullen’s chin and forcing him to look up at him. “We didn’t do anything worth being ashamed about. And I think you enjoyed yourself rather a lot.” Cullen’s blush deepened, causing a lopsided grin to appear on Carver’s face. “Yeah, I thought so.” He leaned forward, placing a kiss on Cullen’s lips, much softer than before. He pulled away, leaning his forehead against Cullen’s, Cullen listening to him breathe, unsure what to do or say. What was appropriate in a circumstance such as this? He had no idea.

“Cullen, I-“ Carver started, voice quiet and full of an emotion Cullen couldn’t read. Before he could finish, the front door opened, the two men springing apart. Bethany stuck her head out, looking between the two of them suspiciously before informing Carver their mother was looking for him. Carver gave a long-suffering sigh, waving her off irritably. Casting one more dubious glance at them, she disappeared back inside, closing the door behind her.

Turning back to Cullen, Carver rolled his eyes. “Family calls,” he said in a tone giving away his annoyance at being summoned. “But, I _will_ see you again, Knight-Captain.” He gave Cullen a Ferelden salute- something Cullen was beginning to think of as his way of saying goodbye- before turning on his heel and strolling back to the house. Cullen watched him go, still reeling a bit from everything that had just happened. Adjusting his trousers a bit more, he headed down the front stairs to the limo parked out front, waiting to take him home. He slid into the seat, exhausted both physically and mentally from the evenings events.

And what an unexpected evening it had been. He’d been mildly aware of the budding attraction he’d felt toward Carver, and yet it seemed to slam into him at full speed at the dinner. But never had he assumed it would take the turn it did. He couldn’t bring himself to regret what happened between the two of them- yet he was distinctly ashamed, having lost control of himself completely during their rendezvous. He had been in public, for Maker’s sake! Anyone could have seen or heard them, and with him holding such a high position in the Templars, he really could not afford any scandals.

Perhaps it would be best for him to break things off with Carver- if there really was anything to break off, that is. It had been one hand job, not a full relationship. Yes, that would be the best course of action to prevent any negative publicity befalling the Order.

Yet he found he dreaded the prospect. He really enjoyed being near Carver- but was it solely a physical thing? That would not be gentlemanly of him, to lead Carver on if all he wanted was, well, sex.

Unless that’s all Carver wanted, too?

He shook his head, surprised to find the limo pulling up to his apartment already. Thanking the driver again, he slipped out and headed inside. Pulling his keys out of his pocket, he unlocked the door and stepped inside his apartment, shutting the door quietly behind him. He peeled his clothes off, heading to bed, intent on getting a full night of sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like it? Did you love it? Did you... *gasp* hate it? Let me know! I'm always open for reviews, comments and helpful criticism.  
> I'm here to grow. :)
> 
> You can also find me on Tumblr as StarlingHawke


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